


Sinner

by TheLoneliestofAll



Category: Original Work
Genre: Claustrophobia, Horror, Psychological Horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-26 06:56:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20926004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLoneliestofAll/pseuds/TheLoneliestofAll
Summary: He was lost, unaware of how he came to be here amidst the sprawling darkness. He tread onward through the fleshy corridors, his boots becoming slick with the vile fluid that dripped from the unseen ceiling, for that was all he could do.





	Sinner

His leather boots sunk down into the pulsing floor, squelching disgustingly with every step forward. The world around him was barely illuminated by the torch he held in his hands. Everywhere about him, moisture, humidity, dripping ropes of some slimy substance that could almost pass as saliva were it not so viscous and vile. The parts of the wall that he could see through torchlight belied to him that he didn't want to know where he was.

Veins. The walls had veins. So, too, did the floor. Stretching out in all directions, intersecting, crossing unnaturally, forming into what appeared to be giant, red blobs full of a sickly pus like liquid. They throbbed in time with the pulsing of the room. A soft thrum could be heard, not unlike the beat of a heart, but from a great distance away. Though it was off rhythm, and one beat turned into multiple. Was he hearing things or were they multiplying? He strained his ears to make out the truth but all it served to do was disorient him.

He continued on, trying not to lose his footing as his foot struggled not to get caught in the mold like consistency of the floor. He cursed as he almost tripped.

If only the color of the walls leant to his torchlight. Then perhaps more than just a small part of the room would be revealed to him. But even with more light, he feared he would make little progress. It had been, surely, at least ten minutes, and he had walked in a circle? No, perhaps not. But surely… The thrums grew louder in an instant and he swooned, barely catching himself. He placed a hand to his head. Was it always so hot?

He leaned against a wall, holding the torch away from him. He needed just a moment.

The wall fell away. He nearly slipped and fell into a puddle on the ground, but managed to save himself at the last second. What was he thinking? There wasn't a wall there beside him. There never was. Right?

He quickly moved on. And just as suddenly as he started moving a noxious smell enveloped the air around him. Acrid almost, definitely disgusting. Sweet like a rotting corpse one moment and as chemical as acetone the next. The smell was wrapping around him like a vice, constricting his sense of smell and dizzying the rest of his senses.

He felt itchy, miserable as the moisture took a hold of him. He started to sweat, sticky not only from that but the slime that dripped onto him from above. 

Joining the thrum was a buzzing sound. Gentle at first but rising in pitch the more he walked. He wanted to stop. He wanted to stop so badly. God, why couldn't he stop? His legs moved of their own will, carrying him onward down a seemingly endless corridor as he scratched at his skin, unable to find any sense of relief from the act.

When did he find a corridor? The room… it must have morphed around him. No, that's ridiculous. Impossible. His skin turned red, he scratched as hard as he could. The buzzing grew louder, nearly tenfold. He was scratching off his skin, layer by layer. Stop buzzing. Stop buzzing! He was tearing off his flesh.

Laughter, insane laughter joined the buzzing and the thrumming, making a cacophonous mess of sound, echoing around in the small corridor that was growing ever smaller. Screaming. Laughter and screaming. Buzzing. Thrumming. The corridor was so tight, he was almost on his knees. He was almost pulling at his muscles and tendons, yet he was still itchy. Itchy. Itchy. Sticky. Crawling on his knees through the tightest space imaginable. 

He was prone now, merely squirming as the cacophony screamed directly into his ears. Laughter. Thrumming. Screaming. Buzzing. Sobbing, now. He reached a dead end. The noise stopped. 

All was silent except a thin, sharp, constant whining ring. He dug as well as he could to find his torch, long since having burnt out. He pulled it in front of him after a long struggle trying to get his limbs free. He managed to get into his satchel, pulling out his flint and steel. He struck the flint roughly, but despite a few spark hitting his face nothing happened. He struck a few more times, getting more and more panicked. The darkness, the silence, it was all too much. He was breathing heavy now, and as he struck harder and harder he could feel something was behind him.

Something was following his footsteps down the corridor. The tunnel. Something. It… He started striking so wildly that he was running out of breath in the narrow space. It was getting closer! He struck with all he had and finally a spark lit the torch! He started crawling forward, prone, squirming through the smallest crevice like a child through a birth canal. He began muttering to himself, praying, almost insane with the hope that some divine presence was listening. 

He started sobbing as he realized that he was stuck, he could squirm no further. He closed his eyes and just fell limp. There was nothing he could do. He looked up, realizing that he had squeezed himself into a hole so tight that the fire was starting to die down from lack of oxygen. He had sealed his own fate. He started choking as smoke filled what little room was left.

Tears ran down his face. His heart started up into overdrive. Hyperventilating, he clenched his eyes tightly shut and uttered one single thing. “Please, God help me…”

Almost as if it came from within the walls that surrounded him, he heard a whisper respond to him. A faint sound, barely audible over his own breathing.

_“I _ _ am _ _ God.” _


End file.
